Here I dance, on my gross little stage…
a frail, pale, little porcelain doll.
The strings binding me never gone,

Never cut free.

Give me a soul!
Make me feel.
Give me a life!
Make me real.

"Never…" is your response without remorse,

And only pull my twisted, frayed strings
harder with your bony fingertips,
making me dance on my little stage,
to the sound of your broken lips.

Give me freedom!
Undo the strings.
Give me a voice!
Allow me to sing.

But you only shake your head solemnly,

Not wanting to lose your plaything.

Here I hang, all tattered and limp,
a frail, pale, little porcelain doll.
The strings that bind me never gone,

Never cut free.